The Final Act
by cheekbonesandcurls
Summary: Sheriarty. Female Sherlock. A take on The Reichenbach Fall. Smut.


It had started at the pool.

"Wrong day to die…you'll be hearing from me Sherlock."  
The words the sent shivers down her spine. But when would it be?

"The game of cat and mouse wouldn't last forever, Sherlock." Jim sang from the shadows of the arches. That taunting voice was what she had wanted to hear for months now, as she removed the bomb jacket from the homeless girl she ignored him. Once the girl was free and the bomb switched off she brushed off her skirt, "You couldn't wait, could you? To get me alone." Her voice rang out loud and clear across the tunnels of the Vauxhall arches, echoing in the darkness. "Now, now Sherly. You've wanted the same…." Jim was suddenly behind her, whispering in her ear. Sherlock span on her heel and looked down, into the darkness of his eyes, "It's very rude, you know…to expect too much from the first time." She arched an eyebrow and her mouth twitched into a smirk. Jim grinned and his tongue flicked out over his lips, "I don't expect it Sherlock. I expect more later." He said, already stepping away but not before kissing her, long and hard. Jim pulled away fully and spun on his heel, "We'll meet again, and you know so. I know you'll be waiting Sherlock."

The next clue came a month and a half later together with a ticket for the opera. Of course, he kidnapped the tenor first and covered him in explosives like icing on a cake. Now, that was charming. Sherlock had broken into the changing room and unstrapped the man, telling him to run right away. A minute later, a gown and high heels were delivered to the dressing room, as the announcement was made that the show would start in ten minutes. Sherlock smirked, changing into the gown and heels, pinning her hair up with one swift movement. She left the dressing room and found Jim outside the theater.

"Good evening..." Jim smiled. "You look stunning, dear." He offered her his arm. "Well then, shall we?". Jim led her to his private box and they sat down just as the lights were dimming. "Maybe a 'Singspiel' would be more suited for us, but we're going to need something more dramatic tonight, dear." he said before the overture to Don Carlo started. Jim smiled and watched the opera develop. He had seen it many times; he knew the music by heart. He waited patiently until the second act, where the tension would start building and slid an arm around her waist.

The curtain fell on the first act and they sat in silence over the interval, when curtain rose again twenty minutes later, Jim stood up, pulling Sherlock with him. He pulled her in for a passionate kiss and as the lights dimmed and the orchestra started to play, he slowly unzipped the back of the gown, letting it fall to the ground like a midnight blue cascade. Sherlock shuddered and opened her eyes, "Only you would be so dramatic…" She whispered, running a hand over his jaw line. He ghosted over her neck, lips almost brushing it, his hands stroking her sides lightly. "Shhh... we can't be noisy, darling." he whispered in her ear, Jim removed his tie and opened her mouth with two fingers, slipping it in and tying it behind her head, "Problem solved, hmmm?" He asked, kissing Sherlock's cheeks in turn. "Isn't it exciting? We might be seen…" the truth was, no one could actually see them unless they were looking. And even then, it would be too dark. They were behind the chairs that were lit with light from the stage, on the sofa of the antechamber, hidden in the shadows and surrounded by music. Sherlock reached to unbutton his shirt, "Not so fast, dear." he whispered, running his lips from her ear down the curve of her neck. He slowly dragged his hands up her arms and sides. Pulling on her head so she would rest it on his shoulder, exposing her throat for him to bite down and suck while wrapping his arms possessively around her.

Sherlock didn't moan, she just shuddered, "Mmmmm." She whispered, barely audible. Sherlock pressed her hips back and pressed her arse into his cock. Jim continued caressing her body, his hands sliding down her abdomen and to her thighs, up her stomach and to her breasts, and back. His mouth kept biting at her neck and shoulders and back. Anywhere he could, really, while his cock slowly hardened against her arse. He pressed against her before pulling back, unwrapping his arms from around her and stepping back. He started undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one, very slowly. He was going to take his time with this. Sherlock began to unclip each stocking in turn, rolling them down and off her pale, slender legs. Jim let the shirt slide down his shoulders, flopping onto the ground and stepped forward to kiss her again, lifting one of her legs and stroking her thigh. He walked them back until Sherlock sat on the velvety sofa, Jim pushed on her shoulder and she lay down, him kneeling between her legs. Jim smiled against her neck and kissed it, traced her jawline with his lips and down her throat, nipping and sucking. He moved over to her shoulders and collarbones with gentle kisses and bites, marking softly her creamy skin. He was intent on tasting every single inch of her. He trailed down her sternum and moved towards one of her breasts, kissing small marks at the tender skin there and sucking one nipple into his mouth, he bit on it and pulled, swirling it with his tongue. Jim flicked his tongue over it one last time and moved down to her stomach, kissing his way down.

He sat between her legs and attacked her navel, licking it, dipping his tongue in it, biting around it. Sherlock's hands lay perfectly still by her sides and she let Jim taste her. Feel every part of her body. Jim chuckled softly and trailed down, spreading her legs open, he gave her a playful lick. He quickly moved his mouth and bit the soft skin around her thighs; he stroked the inside of her thighs and leaned in to lick her between her folds in slow, long swipes of his tongue. Sherlock tugged his hair, silently begging him for more. Jim licked around her swollen clit, never taking it in his mouth, and down to the perineum, loving the tugging on his hair. Jim licked around her entrance, teasing, and finally thrust in with the tip of his tongue, he wiggled his tongue and sucked, gently pushing her thighs farther apart so he could thrust in deeper. Sherlock whimpered from behind the improvised gag, Jim put a soothing hand on her abdomen, stroking the tender skin beneath her navel. He licked his lips and went back to licking her clit, putting two fingers inside her. He pushed a third finger inside, curling them, and sucked at her swollen clit, latching onto it and flicking his tongue as he kept on thrusting. She grinned and bit the gag, bounced herself on his fingers. Jim smiled and pinched the nipple harder, rolling it between his fingers as she fucked herself on his fingers. He sucked again, harder and harder. Too much. She was going to come, she could feel it building. Sherlock's thrusts sped up. Jim could feel her squeezing him and he flicked his tongue over her clit again, grazing it ever-so-lightly with his teeth. God she was just so hot like this, squirming beneath him. Sherlock bit into the gag and her spine arched as she came, with large trembles and shudders shooting down her spine. Jim withdrew his fingers and licked them clean, causing Sherlock's eyes roll back in her head. He lined himself up with her and nodded before pushing in.

Jim smiled, slowly entering her body with a shiver at the much needed heat and tightness, he bit down at her neck, canting his hips, snaking an arm behind her waist to hold her. Sherlock was breathless, panting quietly and thrusting in rhythm with him, "Oh Jim." She moaned into his ear, biting his lobe. The detective's and the criminal's hips ground together as they searched for something the other couldn't achieve, bettering the other. Jim could feel his orgasm starting to slowly build up, goose bumps and shivers running down his spine as he panted softly and thrusted in time with the music. At the rate they were going, they would climax in time with the swell in the music. Sherlock's skin was shiny with a slick sheen of sweat, her thrusts became sloppy as she was near the edge, and bucking up to his and Jim felt the crescendo of the music beneath his skin, as his thrusting became more erratic. Unable to speak, overloaded with sensations. Sherlock gripped his shoulders tight and wrapped her legs around him, lifting herself from the sofa. Anything to get him closer to her. Jim came hard inside her with one final deep thrust, in time with the music, as everything exploded around him, every sensation amplified by his climax. The music was loud, nobody heard Sherlock's final yell as she came just after Jim. Body trembling and shaking with orgasm, after orgasm, she fell back onto the sofa, exhausted and dizzy.

Jim collapsed on top of her, gasping for breath, his seed still spilling through the aftershocks. He gently pulled out of her and moved to the side so he wasn't crushing her. Sherlock stood up and began to dress, beads of sweat still running down her body, glancing at the stage she smiled a little at the opera. Jim stood up and pulled his trousers and pants up, reaching for his shirt and pulling it on, doing it up slowly. "Look at them." he whispered, nodding towards the stage. "Isn't he pathetic, dying for his friend?" he chuckled darkly. "Couldn't imagine either of us doing that, we are far too selfish." Sherlock leaned forward and watched the opera unfold. Jim put an arm around her waist. "Not even for Johnny-boy?" he whispered coldly in her ear. "For your Tiger?" She countered. "No." Jim didn't hesitate. He liked Sebastian, he was useful, but it was more than that. But still not enough to die for him. He could be replaced, though it would pain him to see him die. "I'll make my leave." And with that Sherlock swept from the box without looking back.

Jim didn't so much as move. Not even after the curtain fell. When everybody left, he stood up and looked down at the empty stage, at the sea of chairs beneath him. He smiled. "I owe you a fall, Sherlock."

Jim never sends her another clue. He kept a low profile, hiding in the shadows. The spider at the centre of a web. He planned, plotted, schemed. He watched telly, read the newspapers. /Sherlock Holmes, the Reichenbach hero/. Jim smiled. It would start soon.

It didn't go all BOOM-BOOM this time, but it was so much better. The problem. The Final Problem. He put on the crown and sat down, waiting. "No rush."

Sherlock stood in court, "I felt we had a...special connection." She met Jim's eyes and quickly flicked her gaze away.

Jim raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes, chewing on the gum. Oh they definitely had a special something. Dear Sherlock, things are about to get interesting.

"Suddenly, I'm Mr Sex." he sipped the tea. The curtain has risen, Sherlock.

"It's about to start, Sherlock. Our problem. The final problem." he replied, carving the apple.

He was gone soon after that. IOU. I owe you a fall. "Oh..." She whispered, rubbing her temples.

Richard Brooke. No one seemed to get it; they were all a bunch of idiots. So ordinary, like Kitty. "Darling they didn't have coffee so I..." he looked at Sherlock and John, terrified. Second act, /darling/. "You said I was safe here."

"Stop it!" She screamed, "You are Moriarty. I know you are!" Sherlock was desperate, panicking. "That man is Moriarty!" She yelled eyes wide. Pathetic, Sherlock.

Jim escaped through the window. Oh delicious, fantastic! Surely Sherlock understood now what she had to do. The final problem, the final act.

"You're ordinary; you're on the side of the angels." Jim said, words filled with hate. Not even for Johnny-boy? Sherlock had never answered.  
"I may be on the side of the angels, but do not think for one second that I am one." Sherlock said, hands tucked behind her back, curls flying around her head. Her cheeks pink with cold.

"You're me!" Jim said. Sherlock would die for John just like he would die for Sherlock. "Bless you." he said, gun heavy in his pocket. Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes, the curtain falls

Stood on the edge. The end of the act, but the show must go on. It will go on. "Goodbye, John." Flying free because of her obsession with the only mad man enough to fulfill her.


End file.
